


I'm Sure

by Leah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is adopted into a human family, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff, High School AU, Interspecies Racism, M/M, Maybe a little angst, Mostly fluff though, Oh and Also, Summer Love, handjobs, he feels conflicted, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leah/pseuds/Leah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Winchesters move in to the house next door to the Novak family, Castiel can't help but notice the oldest Winchester. However, being the only (adopted) angel in a family of humans has led Cas to feel like an outsider in his own home, but Dean makes him feel so much better. </p><p>In more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Sure

It’s not easy being an angel in a mostly-human world, even if you’re an angel raised by regular people, like Castiel Novak. The human kids at school want nothing to do with him, but, having grown up with human ideals, he doesn’t know anything about angel culture. So, Cas just spends his days at school pretending he doesn’t exist, a concept which the rest of the student body is more than willing to perpetuate. 

That’s why the three glorious months of summer vacation are the best part of Cas’s entire year. It’s a time when he has no responsibilities, no obligation to leave the house, and nobody to impress. His bedroom is his best friend, perfectly shielded from the sunlight and far enough away from the rest of the family that no one, not even Cas’s little siblings, bothers him. 

_Usually._

Currently, Castiel’s mother is knocking on the door, incessantly. Cas groans, rolling onto his stomach and peeking at the alarm clock on his bedside table. He stretches his wings for a minute, ruffling his feathers, while his mom continues to rap on the door. 

“ _Castiel Benjamin Novak_ ,” she sighs. “Are you awake? Don’t you remember our new neighbors are moving in today?”

“Mo-om,” Cas grumbles, as she opens the door. She’s obviously straightened her hair, and put in the effort of make-up, no matter how many times Cas tells her she doesn’t need to. Cas often wishes she were his birth mother since, maybe then, he wouldn’t have such unruly hair, and his wings would be gone. 

“Come on,” she says, cheerily throwing open the curtains. It doesn’t do much, so she also clicks on the bedside lamp. “The rest of the family is already out greeting them. I’ll cut you a deal; you don’t even have to comb your feathers.”

“’Oh, great, Mom,” Cas mumbles, sitting up. His mother smoothes the dark feathers into place, anyway, as he gets out of bed. Even though the only thing Cas uses in his room is his bed, the rest of the bedroom is a complete disaster with clothes and random personal belongings scattered on every flat space and the floor. 

“However, it’d do you some good to tidy up,” she giggles, pressing a kiss to Cas’s forehead. Cas loves it when she does that. It makes him feel like anything is possible; reminds him that he’s loved, even if he was given up for adoption as a kid.  
Once his mom leaves, Cas grudgingly pulls on a pair of blue Bermuda shorts and slips on a grey button up. Since clothes specially made for angels are not cheap, Castiel’s mom has altered some human shirts, cutting slits in the back where his wings can go. Sometimes, Cas feels a little embarrassed that his clothes don’t look like, well, _anybody else’s_ , but he wouldn’t ever say that out loud. His mom tries as hard as she can, and Castiel loves her for it. He loves her more than anything else in his life. 

Except maybe sleeping. 

But probably not.

Once he stumbles down the stairs, Cas’s mom shoves a muffin in his hands before dragging him outside with her. A huge moving truck is parked outside the house next door, and Castiel’s dad is talking to a man, who is at least four inches taller than him, with black hair and quite a bit of stubble on his cheeks. 

“Charlie,” Cas’s mother calls, taking her place at her husband’s side. He instinctively wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. If Castiel hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought Charlie were his actual father, what with his messy black hair and sharp blue eyes. 

“Oh, John,” Charlie says, turning to the new man. “This is my wife, Laura, and my oldest son, Castiel. Laura, Castiel, this is John Winchester.”

The man shakes Laura’s hand and nods curtly at Cas. Cas just lifts the corners of his mouth. So far, these neighbors are nothing special. 

“John, we are more than happy to help in any way, so you and your family feel comfortable and welcome in our neighborhood,”  
Laura grins, putting on her best smile, which shows off her pearly teeth. Cas wishes he could smile like that, but he’s too busy trying to make his wings look as small as possible. In a crowd of humans, being the only angel makes Castiel feel antsy. He can’t help but think John’s eyes are tracking his extra appendages.

“Uh,” John stumbles over his words, “I think Mary could use some help in the kitchen. If you don’t mind putting in a little elbow grease to clean it up, that is.”

“Bring it,” Laura laughs, leaving the group to enter the house. Castiel feels a lot more vulnerable in the circle without his mother present, and the sheer masculinity radiating off this new neighbor is almost suffocating. 

After a few more brief minutes of awkward conversation, Cas finds himself unloading boxes from the truck. Luckily the Winchesters are freakishly organized move-ees, and they labeled _every single_ box with its appropriate room, which greatly reduces the amount of interaction Cas has with the newcomers. 

Taking the stairs two at a time, Cas pushes open the door to the Winchester’s oldest son’s, Dean’s, room. It’s dimly lit and kind of dusty, and, for a minute, Cas doesn’t notice the teenaged boy tacking up posters. 

“Oh, sorry,” Cas mumbles, his feathers rippling with embarrassment as they contract closer to his back. The boy, presumably Dean, spins on his heel, and suddenly Cas’s wings bristle for a different reason. This kid is _hot_. His shoulders are broad, and his hair is artfully messed up, unlike Cas’s, which is just messy. “If I had known you were in here, I would’ve knocked. So sorry.”

Cas puts the box on the perfectly made bed, and starts backing out of the room. 

“Wait, hold up,” Dean says, extending his hand. His smile is blindingly perfect, and Cas looks away, an idiotic blush forming on his cheeks. “I’m Dean.”

“Cas,” he replies, accepting the outstretched hand. As a natural reaction to the movement of his shoulder, Cas’s wing unfolds away from his body. Cas can see Dean physically jump, and he retracts his hand immediately, stuffing it in his pocket.

“Woah,” Dean breathes, staring at Cas’s now noticeable wings. “You’re a-“

“Angel, yeah,” Cas grimaces, trying to make his shoulders smaller. “It’s weird, I know. I’m just gonna go-“

“That’s _awesome_!” Dean breathes, trying to make his staring less obvious. “I’ve never met an angel before. There’s not very many of your, uh, _kind_ in Kansas.”

Cas bristles under the way Dean says it, like he’s some sort of freak who has no business being in the same room as a human being. Shrugging, Cas turns and leaves the room without saying anything. He’s not sure how to respond to that, except with the self-loathing that’s going on in his head. Even without such prompting, Cas is constantly aware of just how _different_ he is from the rest of his family, and, sometimes, he catches them staring at his wings, too, as if they can’t believe he still has them. 

Once outside, Cas bypasses the mostly-empty moving truck and heads back to his house. He just wants to lay in his bed for a while, until he feels less like an outsider. 

He doesn’t leave his room until the next day.

~_~_~_~_~_~

A few days after the Winchesters move in, Cas stumbles into the kitchen, where his mother is already waiting for him with a bagel. Cas accepts it happily, taking a huge bite while his mom pours him a glass of orange juice. Even though he’s sixteen, and therefore capable of making himself breakfast, his mother continues to do it. She loves to take care of her first baby, and he loves to feel babied, seeing as his three younger siblings tend to get a bigger portion of the attention. 

“Thanks, Mom,” Cas says around a mouthful of food. 

“No problem, baby,” she responds, sitting next to Cas at the ceramic island. She opens her laptop and starts her daily social-networking routine. They sit in silence, ignoring the sound of a five, six, and eight year old playing together. It’s all fairly routine, as Cas stretches his wings out to their full five feet and eleven inches, something he doesn’t do very often. He hates the idea of getting in the way, even if it often causes cramps in his wings where the joints fold. Cas puts his glass in the sink before retracting his shiny wings. 

He’s not proud of much, but he’s fairly fond of how his wings look. They’re shiny and black, something he hasn’t seen on many other angels. Most of the angels at school have white or grey feathers, so, in a world where he doesn’t quite fit, Cas is happy he gets a special something to make people stop and notice him. Not because they’re wings, but because they’re _awesome_ wings. 

Happily, Cas ruffles his feathers. 

“By the way, Cas,” his mom says, innocently. “The Winchesters invited us over for dinner tonight, to say thanks for helping them out.”

“Mom, I don’t want to go,” Cas groans, stuffing his hands into his pockets. When it comes to leaving the house, Cas is better at whining than Gabe, his five-year-old brother. 

“Well, too bad,” she replies, closing her laptop. She looks at Cas with a heartfelt look in her eyes, drumming her fingers on the island. “Dean is exactly your age, and I think it’d be good for both you and him to become friends! He’s very nice, and very _cute_!”

“Mo-om!” Cas groans again, running his spindly fingers through his messy bedhead. However, he knows arguing is futile and, instead, chooses to just go back to his room, counting down the hours until his sociable torture will begin.

~_~_~_~_~_~

“Welcome! Come on in!” Mary Winchester cries, opening the door wider to Cas’s family. Cas’s mom expertly hands off Gabe, whom she was holding, to Castiel. He’s getting bigger and bigger, but Cas’s mom insists that he is still just a baby. Cas doesn’t mind, though. He likes holding Gabe. 

“Oh, thank you!” Laura responds, wrapping Mrs. Winchester in an overly-familiar hug. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, as she puts just as much gusto into her half of the hug as well. “Do you need any help in the kitchen?”

“I will never refuse extra help! Having a house full of boys makes it hard to get enough food on the table, especially since they _never help_!” By the time her sentence is over, Mary is fake yelling up the stairs, to which one of the boys makes a groaning sound to in reply. Cas, his father, and his little sisters, Lacey and Joelle, shuffle into the small ‘lobby’ area. Immediately, Gabe squirms out of Cas’s arms and runs off with Lacey and Joelle, giggling wildly. 

“I’ll bet Dean and his younger brother, Sam, are upstairs,” Cas’s father says, pointedly. He nudges Cas in the ribs, softly. “Why don’t you go on up?”

“Dad,” Cas groans, but, before he can get any more out, his dad is pushing him towards the stairs, saying something about how fun it will be with kids his own age, for a change. Cas has no choice but to trudge upwards, towards the hell that is interacting  
with human teenagers. 

Cas hears talking behind Dean’s closed door, and he thinks he catches the words “freaky” and “angel” before knocking. The conversation abruptly stops, and, after a brief moment, the door swings open, revealing Dean, in all his glory. His eyes are sparkling with some kind of emotion. Excitement? Nervousness? Embarrassment? 

“Hi,” Cas mumbles, studying his hands.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean welcomes him, pulling him into the room by his shoulder. Cas thinks he must have forgotten about how close his wings are to his shoulders, but, in reality, Dean is fascinated by them. The thought of having wings that could _fly_ is just completely beyond him. However, Cas takes Dean’s staring to mean intense dislike, rather than mild interest, and instinctively tries to make his wings appear smaller. 

On a couch pushed against the far wall of Dean’s room, sits a boy, with shaggy brown hair who is clearly taller than both Dean and Castiel. He stands up, crossing the room in three big strides, and puts out his hand. Cas accepts it.

“I’m Sam,” he announces around a huge smile. Instead of sitting down again, though, he sidesteps around Cas. “It’s great to meet you, after all Dean’s been talking about you. But I’ve got to go do… stuff. See you guys at dinner.”

With that abrupt farewell, Sam slips out the door, closing it behind him. Cas tries not to think too hard about all the things Dean could’ve been saying about him and, instead, takes Sam’s spot on the couch, slipping his shoes off and pulling his knees to his chest. 

“So…” Dean stalls, plopping himself on his large bed. “Got any plans for the summer?”

“Uh, no. Not really,” Cas sighs, digging his phone of his pocket. It’s not like he’s got anyone to text; he just likes to have something in his hands when being forced to talk to people he doesn’t know. “Just, uh, gonna stay at home and go on the internet, y’know. You?”

Cas shrugs his shoulders, as he suddenly realizes Dean’s intense eyes on him. Dean’s blank face cracks into a smile, which  
warms Cas’s stomach a little bit. No matter how much he doesn’t understand Cas, Cas can’t help but notice that Dean is _so cute._

“Well, uh, I don’t know anyone around here,” he chuckles, a faint blush rising on his freckled cheeks. “Except you, of course, but I think I’m just going to hang around the house, maybe explore town a little bit, I don’t know.” Dean tries not to ramble, he really does, but something about his new neighbor just makes him a little bit dumber. The way his hair is in a constant state of bedhead should really turn Dean off, but it doesn’t. It does quite the opposite, actually. And his _wings_. Dean can’t stop thinking about them, for some reason. 

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around,” Cas replies, counting down the hours until he gets to return to the safety and comfort of his own bedroom, even though Dean’s is pretty cool, what with the posters of Led Zeppelin and Metallica on the walls. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, quieter than before, more serious. “About the day we moved in, uh, I’m sorry if I offended you or anythin’. I didn’t mean anything by it, I’ve just, y’know. God, no matter how I say this I sound like an asshole, which might be true, I’m not sure, you tell me. Wow, I’m sor-“

“Dean,” Cas interrupts Dean’s rambling apology. “It’s fine. I’m used to it, I’ve lived my whole life as the only angel in a family of humans.” He means it, too. Even if being an angel causes quite a few identity issues, Cas hasn’t known life to be any other way. He just picks himself up and gets on with life. 

“We’re cool?” Dean asks, sounding genuinely worried.

“We’re cool.”

“Boys! It’s time for dinner!” Cas’s mom yells from downstairs. Cas breaks his “I don’t want any friends” demeanor and playfully pushes Dean in their scramble to beat each other down the stairs. 

~_~_~_~_~_~

Dean tried really hard not to look. He doesn’t want to be the neighbor caught ogling the boy next door, but _c’mon_. Cas is pushing the lawn mower partly bent-over, which presses his ass tighter against his _very flattering_ jeans. Not to mention, his wings are glistening with sweat from the harsh sun, and Dean _can’t. Stop. Looking._

“What ‘cha doin’?” Dean calls, relishing the way Cas’s wings jerk with surprise. He shuts off the mower before turning to face Dean. Cas’s face is flushed and adorable, and Dean can’t help but think that’s what he’d look like if Dean pushed him against a wall and ravaged his mouth. 

“Uh, mowing,” Cas answers, crossing the yard to lean against the fence, just like Dean. Dean’s face is cutely flushed, but Cas can’t tell if it’s from the heat or if Dean is blushing. “You?”

“Watching,” Dean winks, nudging Cas’s arm. “Just kiddin’, man. You wanna do somethin’ when you’re done?”

“Uh,” Cas thinks aloud, he actually doesn’t mind Dean’s company. He’s nice and funny, and doesn’t seem to mind Castiel’s wings too much, although Dean does stare at them a lot. 

“That’s cool, if you got stuff goin’ on,” Dean deflates, trying to put on a smile. “Some other time, maybe?”

“No!” Cas says, chastising himself for sounding a little too desperate. It’s been a long time since he wanted to be someone’s friend, and an even longer time since someone wanted to be his friend. “I mean, uh, sure. What d’you want to do?”

Dean grins a blinding smile , crinkling his eyes and showing off his white teeth. “I didn’t really plan this far ahead,” Dean admits, chuckling so he doesn’t seem so dorky. “Wanna play some video games at my house?”

“Sure,” Cas agrees, hoping that Dean will play, and Cas will watch. He’s played very few video games in his life. “I’ll be over in a little while.”

“Awesome,” Dean breathes, watching Castiel’s feathers blow in the light breeze as he returns to the lawn mower. Dean lets his eyes linger for a while longer before turning towards his house. He’s got to tidy up a bit. 

An hour later, after a shower and trying on almost everything in his closet, Cas rings the doorbell on the Winchester’s house. Dean sprints to the door, pausing to catch his breath before opening the door. Cas is wearing his favorite jeans and button up, and, if Dean had to say, they’re his favorite things Cas owns, too. 

“Hey,” Dean breathes, tugging Cas into the house as he closes the door. 

“Hi,” Cas answers, slipping his shoes off. He leaves them by the door, as Mary calls them into the kitchen. 

“Hello, Castiel,” she says, politely smiling. Then she shifts from friendly hostess to a mom and turns towards Dean. “Dean, did you bring down your laundry? And make your bed? And feed the fish?”

“Yes. No. Yes,” Dean beams, cheekily. “But it’s almost nighttime anyway, it’d be silly to make my bed _now_. Right, Cas?”

“I, uh, what?” Cas stumbles over his words, his face burning at the sudden attention. Even when both Winchesters start laughing, Cas still curses his seeming inability to cope with the company of other people, which causes his cheeks to turn an even warmer shade of red. 

“You’re off the hook, just this _once_ , Dean!” Mary laughs, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, as she starts washing dishes in the sink. “Care to help, Cas?” Mary cackles as Dean pulls Cas away, towards the living room, where an Xbox home screen is displayed on the television already. 

“Call of Duty is the game in there already, but we can play somethin’ else,” Dean says, digging two controllers out of the cabinet under the TV. He hands one to Cas, who already picked out a spot on the couch where his wings can hang over the arm. As Dean sits down, Cas retracts his feet just enough so Dean gets a whole cushion to himself. “If you object to violence or something, I don’t know. I like it, but that’s just me. I’m gonna let you answer now, okay?”

Dean outright _giggles_ , and it’s the single cutest thing Cas has ever seen someone do in his entire life. Dean’s cheeks turn a faint pink. “Uh, I’ve never played Call of Duty, so,” Cas admits, looking at the white controller in his hands. “I’ll give it a try, but I’m not so sure how this is going to work out.”

“Dude,” Dean says, incredulously, as the game starts up. “Never played Call of Duty? Like, _ever_?”

“ _Never_ ,” Cas replies, trying to sound just as surprised as Dean. They both laugh for a moment, before Dean sets them up to play online. 

“Well, you move around and shoot people,” Dean explains, demonstrating briefly on his own half of the screen. “Try not to get killed. That’s it. That’s the game.”

“This is popular?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean answers, sticking the tip of his tongue between his teeth in concentration. Cas focuses his attention on the screen, not completely sure what he’s doing, but there’s no one in sight, so he treads carefully. 

Suddenly, his death is being replayed while his character is respawned somewhere else. 

“Fu-udge,” Cas stumbles halfway through his curse. “Uh. Sorry.”

“Nah, bro, it’s cool,” Dean says, looking towards the kitchen. “Mom?”

She doesn’t reply.

“Awesome. Mom must be upstairs. We can say any fuckin’ thing we want, Cas,” Dean grins, returning his attention to the game at hand. By the end of the round, Cas dies an impressive twenty-three times, but he’s ready to redeem himself. 

Cas doesn’t notice Dean staring at him with such wonder in his eyes. To Dean, Cas is perfect. When you get the guy comfortable, he’s passionate, funny, and pretty much the cutest person alive. While he was playing, Cas’s shirt started riding up his stomach a little, and Dean has to exercise some serious self-control to stop from staring. 

They play until almost midnight, pausing only to let Sam join the game and to eat dinner. When Sam excuses himself, Cas stretches his wings out straight behind him. They can’t fully extend when he does it like this, but he doesn’t want Dean to see his wings in their freakish entirety. Almost six feet of wing is startling to Cas himself, sometimes. 

“Tired?” Dean asks, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. 

“Yeah,” Cas yawns, standing up. “I guess I’ll go home, then.”

“Dude!”

“What?” Cas asks, a preemptive blush forming on his cheeks. He hates it that he can’t control how red his cheeks are in any situation. He feels like such a _girl_ sometimes. 

“You can just stay here,” Dean laughs, crawling over the back of the couch to open a closet. It’s stuffed full of extra blankets and pillows, which Dean pulls out copious amounts of. “We could put a movie on while we fall asleep?”

Cas’s grin nearly shines in the dark. Is this what having a _friend_ feels like?

“Sounds good,” he agrees, as Dean starts assembling two beds on the floor, in front of the TV. After a few minutes, 500 Days of Summer is starting, and Cas is hovering around the edge of one of the blanket beds/nests. Dean undoes his pants, slipping out of them before clambering into his own bed. Cas follows suit, albeit a little more sheepishly than Dean. 

Dean makes a point of not looking at Cas while he does so, although he’s not sure if he’s proving a point to Cas or to himself. 

~_~_~_~_~_~

It’s been days since Cas spent the night, but Dean can’t get the feeling of Cas’s wing draped over him out of his head. It was a perfect way to wake up, with the soft weight of Cas’s wing surrounding him and Cas’s flushed, sleeping face directly in his line of sight. 

Now, Dean’s just trying to get himself alone with Cas as often as possible. He wants to wake up to Cas every single day, wants to have the right to touch him anywhere and everywhere, wants to see Cas’s wings at their most grand. 

Which is why Dean is knocking on the Novak’s door, dressed in his snappiest outfit, which, by the way, includes his leather jacket. Joelle opens the door, her eight-year-old smile almost blinding Dean. He knows how much this little girl adores him, so he quickly puts his hands on her waist, swinging her around in a circle. 

“Hey, Joelle,” he greets, stepping in to the hall. “Is Cas here?”

“Yeah, but he’s been cranky _all day_ ,” she whines, picking a Barbie up off the ground. She smoothes the doll’s hair lovingly. 

“D’you know why?” Dean asks, mounting the stairs with the little girl trailing behind him. For having no blood relation, Joelle looks eerily similar to Castiel. Especially her brilliantly blue eyes, which she inherited from her father. 

“Probably just trying to be special,” she scoffs. “He’s an angel, you know.” She makes a face at her imaginary Castiel. She’s only eight, but Dean feels vaguely angry that she would say it like that. Like his angelic status is something icky or something Cas tries to use to his advantage. 

“He’s got issues, y’know,” Dean grumbles. “And singling him out as the angel in the family probably doesn’t help, just so you know.”

Joelle looks sort of upset for a minute before she turns and scampers towards her room. Dean feels badly for talking to her like that, but what’s done is done, so he continues down the hall, to Cas’s room. He knocks softly, and earns an irritated, “Yes?”

“It’s me,” Dean announces as he pushes open the door. Cas is curled up on his side, staring at the wall, on top of the well-made covers. His room is spotless, so he must have spent the entire day cleaning. He must be avoiding something. “You okay?”  
Cas shrugs his shoulders, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. 

“That’s not promising,” Dean murmurs, sitting down in the crook of Cas’s knees. Instinctively, Cas shifts so his calves and his thighs are pressed against Dean. Dean runs his fingers over Cas’s thigh, as he lets out a breath. “What’s goin’ on, dude?”

“My fuckin’ wings,” Cas grumbles, shaking the feathered beasts as if that explains everything. 

“They look great,” Dean admits, honestly. “What about them?”

“They’re growing,” he mumbles. He feels like such a little kid right now, and he hates it. He seems immature and small. “I’ve had growing pains all day, but I’m the ‘grown up kid’, so I can’t say anything!”

“You can say something to me,” Dean murmurs, letting his fingers drift up Cas’s side. “Do you want me to get some Tylenol or somethin’? I don’t mind.”

Dean moves to stand up, not waiting for a proper response. However, as soon as his body is gone, Cas misses Dean’s presence, and a fresh save of aching pain travels from the base of his wing to the tip.

“No,” he says, reaching behind his back, blindly searching for Dean’s wrist. He tugs on the edge of Dean’s sleeve, pitifully. “Please just stay. That’s better.”

“Sure, Cas,” Dean murmurs, shedding his jacket before returning to his spot in the nest of Castiel’s knees. Immediately, Castiel relaxes into the feel of Dean’s body. “Whatever you need, buddy. Whatever you need.”

“Goddamn these wings,” Cas groans, angrily ruffling his feathers. The rhythm of Dean’s fingers stutters, as an idea comes to him. 

“Hey, Cas, just, uh, let me try something,” Dean almost whispers, moving his hand from Cas’s torso to his back. Hesitantly, Dean brushes his slender fingers against the base of Cas’s wing. His feathers are surprisingly soft, and Dean wants to touch them forever. Cas bristles at the contact, but relaxes into it after a moment, when Dean starts moving his fingers in circles, pressing lightly. 

Dean works his way towards the middle of Cas’s wing, drawing soft whines from Cas’s throat. Cas is completely lost in the comforting waves of Dean’s hands in his feathers, and he can’t stop it when a moan escapes his lips and his back arches into Dean’s touch. It’s _so relaxing_ , and Cas lets his mind wander a little, imagining what these magic fingers would feel traveling elsewhere on his body.

And, even though he wants nothing less, Dean removes his hands when he reaches the tip of Cas’s wing. Cas lets out a noise that is half a contented sigh and half a disappointed whine, which makes Dean’s hand return to the small of his back. 

“Better?”

“So much better,” Cas murmurs, flipping over so he’s facing Dean. Something about the softness in Dean’s eyes makes Cas feel warm all over. They just look at each other for a moment, before it’s interrupted by Castiel’s mom knocking on the door. 

“Is Dean staying for dinner?” 

“Sure, Mrs. Novak,” Dean calls, without breaking eye contact with Cas.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Dean Winchester: Call me Laura,” she answers, walking away before Dean can reply.  
“Wanna watch a movie?” 

“Sure, Cas. Anything you want.”

~_~_~_~_~_~

Cas wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans before picking up the phone. He knows the number by heart, even if he’s never called it before. On his way back to his room, Cas’s mom pats him on the shoulder and grins. Somehow, without telling her, she knows Cas is about to try and step up his relationship with Dean. 

Cas can’t stop thinking about Dean’s hands, Dean’s smile, Dean’s laugh. Everything about Dean is wonderful and never ceases to amaze Castiel, so he’s decided to tell Dean because he’s not sure how much longer he can keep it in. 

However, when the phone starts ringing, Cas wants to hang up. He wants to throw up. He wants to pass out. The moment Dean answers, Cas collapses onto his bed, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a deep breath. 

“You okay? Is it your wings again?” Dean asks, worriedly. Cas thinks he hears a little bit of hope in his voice, too. Maybe he’s just reading into it too far. Well, here goes nothing.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Cas answers, his voice shaking a little bit. “Just fine. Hey, uh, Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, leaning against the doorframe in his kitchen. He fiddles with the zipper on his jacket, a weirdly nervous feeling rising up in his stomach. What has gotten into Cas?

“You’re my best friend, right?”

“I like to think so.”

“Well, I just wanted to say that I think you’re really great. Like, really great,” Cas stumbles over his words, kicking himself for sounding like such a dork. “And I’ve just been thinking about it, and I really _like_ you, and I hope this doesn’t change things with you and me, I just needed to tell you. I don’t really feel that much better, though, since I haven’t given you a chance to say anything yet, but I just thought you should know.”

“Cas,” Dean says in a low voice, that Cas can’t quite read. Suddenly, Cas’s thoughts are disrupted by the harsh sound of a dial tone. Everything seems so completely pointless now, and Cas’s stomach threatens to revolt against him, as he also hangs up his phone. He rolls into a ball on his side, feeling the dark cloud of rejection settle over his psyche. It physically feels heavy on his body, weighing him down and pressing him into the mattress. 

He doesn’t feel like crying, he doesn’t feel like anything. Never has Cas ever felt so completely empty inside. He’s so busy focusing on his suffering, that he doesn’t notice when his door opens, and Dean slips inside. Seeing his friend look so helpless completely wrecks Dean. He hurries to the side of the bed, kneeling beside Cas, looking into his beautifully blue eyes. 

“Sorry, Dean,” Cas says, monotonously. He tries to roll over, but Dean captures his shoulder in his strong hands. 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, surging forward and pressing his lips to Castiel’s. It’s everything Cas hoped it would be; warm, inviting, gentle. Dean’s teeth lightly graze against Cas’s lips, and Cas lets out a moan that stirs something in Dean. Cas pulls on Dean’s jacket, until he’s lying on the bed, facing Castiel. Dean caresses Cas’s cheek with his fingertips, causing shivers to run through his angel’s body. 

Cas ducks his head into the crook of Dean’s shoulder, sucking a dark purple mark there, making Dean squirm, wrapping his fingers in Castiel’s hair. “Hng, Cas,” Dean groans, wrapping his arms around Cas’s slim waist and pulling him closer. Cas presses his hips against Dean’s, relishing the way Dean gasps and cants his semi-hard member against Cas’s. 

Cas shudders when Dean’s fingers skate under his shirt, sending electric shivers up and down Castiel’s chest. Finally, after several long moments, Cas returns his mouth’s attention to Dean’s, swallowing all his whines while Dean keeps up a quick rhythm with his hips against Cas’s. 

Dean rolls over, straddling Cas’s hips. After a few minutes of Cas pulling at the bottom of Dean’s shirt, Dean removes it, letting Cas’s nails drag across Dean’s chest. Dean lets his head fall limply back while Cas rolls Dean’s soft pink nipple between his fingertips. 

“Wanna see you, too,” Dean pants, undoing some of the buttons on Cas’s shirt. His fingers aren’t exactly functioning, and they fumble more than they actually undo, so Cas halfway sits up, swiftly slipping out of his shirt. It only got caught on his wings for a moment, too. 

When Dean leans down, sucking purple spots into Cas’s chest, Cas moans so prettily, it only makes Dean harder, his cock visibly straining against his jeans. However, some part of his brain is still rational enough to silence Castiel with his mouth. 

“Shhh, Cas,” Dean whispers, pressing rows of kisses against Cas’s jaw. “You gotta be quiet, just for now. Later, I promise, you can make as much noise as you want. _Promise_.”

“Dean,” Cas whimpers, his hands scrambling for something to hold on to. He wraps his legs around Dean’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer to his hips. Cas grinds his cock against Dean’s, nearly sobbing from how perfect it is, yet how much more he needs. Cas slips his fingers under the waistband of Dean’s jeans, brushing teasingly near to Dean’s dick, but not touching it. 

Dean hisses, as he realizes just how much he needs this _right now_. He wrenches open the fly on Cas pants, shucking them down to his knees, before doing the same to his own pants. Dean returns to his spot, straddling Cas’s hips. While he tangles his lips with Castiel’s again, Dean drags his fingers along the shaft of Cas’s weeping cock, smirking at the way Cas’s hips seem to leap off the mattress.

Dean wraps his large hand around both of their cocks, gasping when it takes a moment to get enough precum to slick the way properly. Cas twists underneath Dean, trying to decide where to put his hands. He decides to wrap them in Dean’s hair, accidentally tugging on it when Dean’s thumb slips over the head of Cas’s cock. However, he purposefully does it again when Dean groans against Cas’s neck. Dean’s rough fingers swipe over the heads of both their cocks on every upstroke.

Suddenly, Cas is overwhelmed, and he’s too hot, and Dean’s hand feels too good on his dick. Cas lets out a cry that sounds kind of like a sob, before he is shooting his load between himself and Dean. The pulsing of Cas’s cock sets Dean off a second later, as his cum joins Cas’s on his chest. 

“Oh my God,” Cas pants, lifting himself up on his elbows to kiss Dean again, slower this time. Sweeter. Cas’s wings stretch out, and Dean settles into the warm feathers as he rolls off of Cas’s body. After blindly fumbling for his discarded shirt, Cas wipes both of their chests clean before tossing the fabric into the laundry hamper. 

“That was _awesome_ , Cas,” Dean whispers, pressing a kiss to Cas’s neck. 

“ _You’re_ awesome,” Cas replies, snuggling closer to Dean and wrapping his wings around Dean. After a few minutes, both of them drift into a comfortable slumber. 

~_~_~_~_~_~

Cas fidgets with the collar of his shirt before ringing the doorbell. After just a moment, Sam, towering over Cas, opens the door and grins at Castiel. 

“Hey, Cas!”

“Hello, Sam,” Cas says in his typical reserved manner. Despite spending more and more time in the Winchester household, Cas still doesn’t know quite how to drop into their family dynamic immediately, like Dean does with Cas’s family. 

“Dean! Your _boy-toy_ is here!” Sam yells up the stairs, while Cas blushes and studies his shoes. He can hear Sam laughing as he retreats to the kitchen before Dean can show up and make his life a living hell. Cas gingerly shuts the door behind him as Dean rumbles down the stairs.

“Hey, babe, where’d that asshat go?” Dean grins, pushing Cas against the door. Cas unfolds his wings, wrapping them around Dean’s shoulders as his hands go Dean’s waist. Dean runs his hands up Cas’s torso before leaning in and finally pressing his lips to Cas’s. They let themselves get lost in each other’s mouths for a minute, exploring the now-familiar dips and ridges. 

“Excuse me, boys,” Mary sing-songs as she skirts around the teenagers and heads up the stairs. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Winchester,” Cas breathes, hiding his embarrassingly red face in Dean’s shoulder as he retracts his wings from around Dean. However, he leaves his hands wrapped around Dean’s waist. 

“I think we should go to a movie,” Dean says loud enough for his mom to hear, too. She makes a noise of approval, as Cas drags Dean out of the house. “I’ll drive!”

Cas and Dean scramble into the car, and Dean pulls out of driveway, heading not towards the local movie theater, but to their favorite place where they can be alone. Cas shuffles through the cassettes Dean keeps in the glovebox. After a few minutes, he decides on Zeppelin, much to Dean’s pleasure. 

As ‘Whole Lotta Love’ pours out of the speakers, Cas watches the countryside slip by his window. Soon, the fields of corn and wheat fade into plain grassy expanses, bordered by the winding river. Dean pulls on to the dirt road most people would drive by, finally coming to a stop on a grassy bank of the river. Cas clambers out of the car, trailing a blanket behind him. 

After spreading the blanket out, Cas sits down, reclining on his elbows and watching the river rush by. It takes a few minutes for him to notice Dean hasn’t sat down with him. Instead, Dean is leaning against the Impala, watching everything about Cas; the way his wings unconsciously ruffle when he’s thinking, the way his mouth curves into at least half a smile at all times, the way his sharp blue eyes see everything. 

“Babe?” Cas asks, his wings flicking nervously. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s perfect,” Dean murmurs, dropping to his knees on the blanket. He cradles Cas’s chin in his hands. “You’re perfect.”  
Cas blushes, avoiding Dean’s insistent eyes. “I don’t know about that,” Cas answers, laying his hand over Dean’s. 

“Cas,” Dean whispers, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of Cas’s nose. “You are wonderful and funny and smart, and I freaking love you.”

Dean smothers his own insecurity and the small gasp that escapes Cas’s lips with a passionate kiss, letting the heat of Cas’s closeness drown him again. After a moment, Dean leans back and settles into the spot on the blanket next to Cas.

“I love you, too, Dean,” Cas replies, his voice suddenly serious. “Listen, Dean, I know it’s kind of far off, but when school starts again-“

“It’s barely August, dude!” Dean laughs, letting his fingers dance over Cas’s chest. 

“I just have to tell you this, okay?” Cas asks, pleading with his eyes for Dean to listen to him. “I’m not like anyone else at our school. I just don’t fit in very well. With anybody. The humans won’t have me, and the angels don’t want me.”

“I’ll have you, _gladly_ ,” Dean whispers, nuzzling Cas’s neck. However, Cas pulls away from the loving touch, no matter how much he wants it to continue forever. 

“It’s not going to be this easy, when you realize by loving my, you’re damning yourself,” Cas mumbles, watching the sky intently. The sun has fallen behind fluffy white clouds, casting shadows over everything. “And I just want you to know that it’s okay.”

“What’s okay?” Dean asks, searching his friend’s face for an answer. All he sees is Cas’s eyebrows knotted together and his eyes swimming with the threat of tears. 

“Whatever you do,” Cas whispers. “Whatever you choose to do is _okay_.”

“Cas,” Dean murmurs, stroking Cas’s cheek. “I’m not going to let any of those idiots get between me and you. You’re all I need. All I want. Only you.”

“You can’t know that for sur-“

“You’re the only one for me, Cas. I’m sure of it,” Dean whispers, pressing a soft kiss to Cas’s lips. 

“You’re sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” Dean answers, watching the relief wash over Cas’s features. With a new purpose, Dean leans in and kisses Cas again, this time slipping his tongue into Cas’s mouth. 

“I love you, Dean,” Cas mumbles against Dean’s lips, as he closes his eyes, letting Dean’s presence calm him for the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Woo, third Destiel fic done! Please, tell me what I could use improvement on! It means so much to me that you took the time to read this.
> 
> Thank you so much!
> 
> -Leah


End file.
